He just uttered a begrudging “harrumph.”
“So you killed Cassandra to get the twenty acres Gordon had originally promised to sell you,” I said, still not able to believe that someone who had painted himself as a family friend for years could actually be capable of such a heinous act.
“At a very good price, I might add, thanks to the fact that Gordon is a bit of an innocent.” He smiled indulgently, as if he were talking about a child. “True to form, he never realized its true value. To land developers, I mean.”
“Developers? You mean the kind who put up four hundred ugly condos overnight?” I couldn’t resist blurting out.
Theo shrugged. “What they use the land for is not my concern. The only thing I’m interested in is how much they’re willing to pay for it.”
So that was what the land deal was really about, I thought. Theo had no intention of expanding his winery, the way Gordon assumed. He was going to let some developer cram it with town houses—at a hefty profit.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” he continued, “I’m at a point in my life when I’m starting to think about slowing down and enjoying my ‘golden years.’ My wine business has been only moderately successful. As I already told you, we haven’t all had the benefit of starting out as financially comfortable as Gordon. And I’ve never had his knack for making wine. A strong woman like Joan either, someone to help with sales and marketing, not to mention running the place.
“From the beginning, I’ve had to struggle to keep my little vineyard in the black. It’s been hard work, let me tell you. Maybe it looks glamorous, but that’s because people outside the industry don’t know about the day-to-day difficulties like weather and insects and government bureaucracy. I’m damn tired and I’m getting ready to retire. That won’t be easy without a hefty influx of cash. Hence, my plan.”
Even though his face was blanketed in shadow, I saw him smile coldly. “See, Dr. Popper? I was absolutely right about there being treasure out here on the North Fork— and that it’s the land itself. Captain Kidd’s entire chestful of jewels and doubloons wouldn’t hold a candle to the amount I’m going to get from the developer I’ve struck a deal with, now that Cassandra is out of the way. And something I hadn’t even anticipated is that since Gordon is beside himself with grief, he’s so upset that he even reduced the price, just to get rid of it. He actually believes I’m doing him a favor by taking that land off his hands, since he’d already come to think of it as Cassandra’s property. He wants no part of what was supposed to be the site of Red Rabbit Run Vineyards.”
“So in the end, you got what you wanted,” I said, trying my best to sound as matter-of-fact about all this as he was. “So why don’t we just leave it at that? I’ll just walk away, and you can go ahead with—”
He laughed. But I got the feeling that it wasn’t over anything I was likely to think was even remotely funny.
“Surely you’re not serious,” he said. “Why on earth would the bighearted Dr. Popper risk having her good friend take the blame for a crime someone else committed? Especially murder?”
I didn’t have a good answer for that one. So instead I tried, “You’re not really going to shoot me, are you?”
“Actually, shooting you is Plan B. But I’m hoping Plan A will work.”
“And what exactly is Plan A?” My mouth was so dry I could barely get the words out.
“Now that it’s obvious you broke into Cassandra’s house, it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch for the police to believe that as you attempted to run away, you accidentally plunged down the bluffs behind Cassandra’s house, tragically falling to your death.” Theo Simcox spoke so calmly that it took a few seconds for the meaning of his words to register. “I’m hoping you’ll be somewhat cooperative. If not, that’s where taking care of this matter the old-fashioned way—by shooting you—comes in.”
“You can’t shoot me! The police would easily catch you! The neighbors would hear the shot, you’ve left all kinds of physical evidence behind...”
“True, Plan B would launch a considerably more complicated scenario. But I’ve already worked out my story. I’ll simply claim that I came to Cassandra’s house one last time, just to say good-bye to the lovely young woman I thought of as the daughter I never had. And that while I was here, an intruder undid the lock and sneaked inside. Fearing for my life and the sanctity of a dead woman’s house, I simply panicked and fired the gun in what I believed to be self-defense.”
Waving the gun in the air, he added, “I could actually make you seem even more menacing, in fact. It would be easy enough to plant some ordinary object on you that could also serve as a weapon. A knife, or some heavy object—after all, you’re young and strong, and I’m just a frail old man.” Theo shrugged. “In the end, Dr. Popper, it’s your choice.”
I lowered my eyes to the gun he had pointed at me. It seemed very, very close—and he seemed very, very serious.
Buy yourself time, a voice inside my head commanded. There’s still a chance that someone will see you...or hear you.
Given how dark it was outside, and given the fact that it was cold enough that not many people were likely to be out enjoying the evening air, neither possibility sounded very likely. But I wasn’t about to give in.
Especially since I had at least a chance of getting away if I could get out of the house.
“I guess I prefer Plan A,” I told him in an uneven voice.
As soon as I got the words out, I wondered if I’d just walked right into a trap. For all I knew, he was going to go ahead with whichever “plan” I didn’t choose.
At least he was true to his word.
“Fair enough.” With his gun, he gestured toward the back door. “After you, Dr. Popper.”
I turned around and headed out the way I’d just come in. I couldn’t resist the instinctive urge to check over my shoulder every few seconds. Not a very good feeling, being followed by some guy who has a gun aimed at your back.
Outside, the brisk autumn air hit me in the face like a slap. It was another harsh reminder that it wasn’t very likely anyone else would be in the area, enjoying the chilly October air. Not when this was a night better suited to relaxing in front of a roaring fire, sipping hot mulled cider, than taking a stroll.
“Keep walking,” Theo prompted.
It was dark enough that I couldn’t see him very well. Yet I could tell he was right on my heels, the thud of his footsteps menacingly close as he trod across the hard ground behind me.
We walked a hundred feet or so out behind Cassandra’s house. If I’d felt like he and I were the only two people around before, at this point I felt as if we were the only two people in the entire world. Even the moon wasn’t very good company, emitting only a feeble light against the dark, starless sky.
“And now, Dr. Popper, you’re about to meet with a most unfortunate accident,” he finally announced. “Rather than the two of us getting into a struggle, I suggest that you simply jump.”
Even though I’d known all along that that was Plan A, peering over the edge of the craggy bluff made my heart leap up somewhere around my ears. True, the drop wasn’t that far, maybe forty or fifty feet. But that was far enough, even with the waters of Long Island Sound waiting below like the monster at the bottom of the pit. They simply weren’t deep enough to break a fall.
Not exactly my idea of taking a pleasant dip at the seashore.
I stood there for a few seconds, my mind racing as I tried to come up with a way to escape. And then I heard a slight rustling in the bushes—and a black shape rushed by.
“Look out!” I cried in a panicked voice.
I instantly realized it was only Beau darting past us. But I also knew that Theo wasn’t likely to figure that out, at least not for a few seconds. Behind me, I heard him gasp, reacting to the unexpected movement just a few feet off to the side.
I reacted fast, taking advantage of the distraction. I glanced down, desperately searching for something— anything—tha
t could serve as a weapon. All I spotted was a tree branch. It wasn’t thick enough to cause much damage, and the few twigs that protruded from it didn’t look capable of doing much more than making a few superficial scratches on the skin. But it would have to do.
With one smooth motion, I swooped down, picked it up, and turned to face him. I half-expected the gun to go off. But I didn’t exactly have a lot of choice.
Fortunately, he hadn’t been expecting this crafty little maneuver. As I swung the branch in his face, thinking I might take out an eye or two and not caring a bit, I let out an angry yell, the kind of sound an angry pirate might have made.
“Aargh!”
I don’t know if it scared him, but at least it surprised him. Theo stumbled backward, dropping his gun. It flew in a diagonal direction, landing a few feet in front of him.
“Damn you!” he cried, lunging toward it.
As he did, he underestimated the distance—maybe because of the darkness, maybe just because of the heat of the moment. At any rate, before I understood what was happening, the sandy soil at the edge of the bluff crumbled beneath him, sending him plunging down to the beach.
Without waiting to see the results, I turned and ran back toward the house. I charged through the open back door and grabbed my cell phone out of my purse, punching in numbers as I ran toward the safety of my van.
I never in a million years would have thought I’d actually be glad to see Lieutenant Falcone. But I guess you just never know where life will take you.
“Slow down, Dr. Popper,” he growled. “You’re talkin’ so fast I can hardly understand you.”
“I’ll start at the beginning,” I said, pausing to take a deep breath. He and I stood in Cassandra’s backyard, surrounded by the cops and paramedics who were swarming around her property.
I proceeded to relate everything that had happened since I’d escaped from the Thorndikes’ wine cellar and come to Virginia Krupinski’s house to treat her cat—including every word Theo Simcox had said to me. I hadn’t expected to remember it all so clearly, but it turns out that having somebody point a gun at you can do wonderful things for the memory.
When I’d finished, Falcone smiled sardonically. “So, Dr. Popper, you’re telling me that Theodore Simcox confessed to Cassandra Thorndike’s murder. But aside from your word, you don’t have any proof. You have no witnesses—”
“As a matter of fact, she does.”
I don’t know which one of us was more surprised to turn around and see Virginia Krupinski standing at Cassandra’s back door, peering out at us and pulling her puffy hand-knit sweater around her more tightly.
You could have knocked me over with a knitting needle.
“I was in the house the whole time,” she announced. “I heard him confess.”
“You were in the house?” Falcone repeated, incredulous.
“That’s right.” Virginia folded her arms across her chest and stuck her chin in the air defiantly. “What, you think old people can’t be sneaky?”
“And were you being sneaky?” he asked.
“I guess you could say that. I live right next door. See?” she added, pointing as she made her way down the steps. “Right in that house over there.”
“I remember where you live,” he said impatiently.
“Now, that’s a surprise,” Virginia replied, “since you didn’t seem to think I was anybody important enough to consider as part of a murder investigation, just because I happen to have a few years on you. And it’s true that I’m a little hard of hearing. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what goes on.”
“I get your point,” Falcone returned, his mouth drooping downward. “So what were you doing inside Cassandra Thorndike’s house?”
“If you’ll give me a chance to explain,” she said haughtily, glancing over at me.
I gave her an encouraging smile.
“See, Cassie was always nice to me, bringing me little treats like desserts and candy from her job,” Virginia explained. “There was one chocolate candy in particular that was my favorite, and I was pretty sure she’d said something about the sales rep who was always giving them to her just piling it on the last time she saw him. She said something about how he’d practically filled the trunk of her car with them candies, and how she was gonna need my help to finish them off.
“That was just a few days before—well, you know, before she was killed. So this evening I decided I’d go over to Cassandra’s house to see if I could find them. I went as soon as Dr. Popper left. In fact, I was heading out the back door as she was going out the front. I’d only been inside for a minute or two when I heard the window breaking and somebody coming in—that horrid man and Dr. Popper, it turned out. I wasn’t about to let on that I was in the house, standing right there in the dining room. After all, stealing candy from a dead person isn’t exactly the most honorable thing to be doing, I suppose. But you can’t get those chocolates anywhere else. Believe me, I’ve looked. See, they have these swirls of this truffle stuff inside, with different flavors like coffee and raspberry—”
“How did you get inside?” Falcone demanded.
“With a key, of course,” Virginia replied, clearly indignant over having been asked such a silly question. “Cassandra gave me a spare when she first moved in. In case she ever lost hers and got locked out.”
“And what exactly did you hear Theo Simcox say,” Falcone interrupted, “while you were sneaking around Cassandra Thorndike’s house, looking for candy to steal?”
Virginia stood up a little straighter. “No need to try to make me feel bad about what I was doing,” she shot back. “Not when I’m turning out to be your star witness. Along with Dr. Popper here, that is.”
I noticed that his shoulders sagged, just a little. And then Virginia proceeded to give Falcone the exact same report I’d given, repeating everything Theo Simcox had said, practically word for word.
When she’d finished, Falcone cast me a look of disbelief.
“I guess you’re telling the truth,” he told her. “You really did hear Simcox’s whole confession.”
“Well, of course I did!” Virginia said archly. “In fact, I was about to rush back to my own house to call the police myself when I heard that horrible commotion. First Dr. Popper yelling, then that nasty man screaming... then I heard Dr. Popper on her cell phone, calling 911. So I just stayed where I was, figuring I’d sneak back home once the coast was clear.”
“Mrs. Krupinski,” Falcone said wearily, “I’ll need you to come down to the station and make a formal statement.” Turning to me, he added, “You too, Dr. Popper.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“Mrs. Krupinski, let me explain a couple things about what happens next...”
“Hey, Popper,” I heard someone behind me say, “I hear you wield a mean tree branch. You got a license to handle foliage?”
I turned to see Forrester grinning at me.
For a change, I was actually happy to see him, too. Funny what euphoria can do. “I actually have Beau to thank for getting me out of that one,” I told him. “Cassandra’s cat saved the day. And they say having a black cat cross your path is bad luck!”
“Hey, whatever it takes!”
“What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Falcone called me. An exciting new development like this warrants a trip out to the North Fork. Seems like the cops finally got their man.
“As for the courageous and ingenious Dr. Popper,” he went on breezily, “it looks like you’ve got another notch in your belt. One of these days, Falcone’s going to have to put you on the payroll.”
“Thanks, but I already have a job,” I replied. “Besides, I’ve had enough of murder investigations for a while.”
“This wasn’t exactly your average investigation,” he observed. “This time around, you saved your pal Suzanne’s butt.”
“And found out who really killed poor Cassandra.” I sighed. “So it wasn’t her adventurous life that killed her, after
all,” I mused. “It was her desire to give it all up, once and for all, and do something meaningful with the rest of her life.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not in the stars for Theo Simcox,” Forrester observed. “Looks like he’s going to be trading a view of the vineyards for a view of the prison yard.”
“So he survived the fall onto the beach?” I asked.
“He’s tougher than he looks, especially since he snagged his pant leg on a shrub, which slowed him down. That paramedic over there told me he broke his leg and smashed a couple of ribs but that he’s fine otherwise. Certainly in good enough shape to stand trial.”
Forrester and I headed to the front of Cassandra Thorndike’s house, then stood together and watched the parade of vehicles go by. First, the ambulance carrying Theo Simcox off to the hospital, his leg in a splint and his hands in cuffs. Next, Lieutenant Falcone, speeding off in his dark-blue Crown Victoria, his jaw set firmly and his expression hard. Finally, a blue-and-white Norfolk County police car with Virginia Krupinski sitting in back, her eyes bright as she talked the ear off the officer who was driving.
It was over. By that point, I couldn’t tell if I felt exhilarated or just exhausted. But one thing was clear: I suddenly couldn’t wait to call Nick and tell him what had happened.
However, there was something else I needed to do first.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I told Forrester, “I have an important phone call to make.”
I couldn’t help grinning as, for the second time in less than half an hour, I rummaged through my purse and pulled out my cell phone. Only this time, I punched in Suzanne’s number.
“I’ve thrown my share of parties,” I told Nick. “But finding Cassandra’s killer and clearing Suzanne’s name has got to be one of the best reasons ever for a celebration.”
I glanced around my small cottage, which I’d decorated with so many crepe-paper streamers I felt like I was hosting a school dance. I guess I’d gotten kind of carried away in terms of the bouquets of flowers too, but I figured this was one of those special occasions when there was no such thing as over the top.
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